how would you react if you suspected someone was looking secretly into your past? would you be concerned? anxious? uncaring?
Exhaustion weighs heavy on the male’s shoulders, a wary sort of exhaustion that is visible not just in the slump of his shoulders and in the lax expression on his features, but in the way his hands shake, ever so slightly, as they lift to card through his hair. He’s exhausted. Physically, emotionally. Drained. Tired.
He’s not doing a very good job of controlling his responses, of playing at detached and unobtainable. Normally he’s better at it. Normally he excels at it, at being gorgeous and untouchable and appearing beyond the cares of others. It’s part of why he’s so popular, his ability to be mysterious and aloof. But if there’s any one way to break through Iseul’s defenses, it’s to remind him that once upon a time, before Shin Iseul, before his life now, he was Kim Jaeseok -- a son and a brother.
“I would ask them not to.” Iseul glances up, lips compressing into a thin line of hurt. “There’s nothing in my past that I won’t tell them...if they only ask me. There’s no reason to dig into my history when they could just ask me what they want to know.” Hurt. He’d be hurt. That much is obvious. There’s distress, too, and grief. But then again, with the history he hides, and the bodies he left in it, anyone would be bothered.
"Sometimes what’s in the past should stay in the past, and what’s buried should stay buried. And when things die, they should stay dead.” And Izzy, his precious baby sister, should stay buried in his past, safe and secure in his memory. But he would answer anything else -- everything else -- if only they asked the right question.
Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let the pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.
Iain Thomas, I Wrote This For You
(via goodreadss)
most people just got annoying when they saw him in this sort of state. started trying to look after him, chastise him, tried to pull out something to wipe the blood away. and god did yuchan hate people like that. if he wanted their help, then he would ask for it. thankfully, iseul was not like that, the guy was more than happy to just sit down on the sidewalk next to him, have a smoke and just talk. and yuchan honestly wished that more people were like that and would quit being annoying and good samaritans.
[read more]
“I know you well enough,” Iseul returns, quick as a whip and entirely unrepentant. He watches Yuchan from the corner of his eye, expectant, and is ready when the pack and lighter are tossed his way. It’s not quite the same as an easy pass off, but really, Iseul should know better than to expect Yuchan, or all people, to go for the easy way out. It was like the male didn’t know the meaning of the word.
Humming to himself, Iseul pulls out one of the cancer sticks, idly tapping the end of it on the pack before putting it to his lips. He casts Yuchan another glance, this one more speculative than the last, before cupping the end of the cig and lighting up. The first drag of the nicotine burns his lungs, and he holds the smoke there until the need to breathe is too great, before exhaling on a sigh. He watches the smoke drift away before dissipating into the air.
“I get worried when I don’t see you for a few days,” Iseul admits as his settle on where the smoke had disappeared. There’s something matter-of-fact about his tone, so entirely nonplussed, and yet his expression remains even, still and unchanging. He hums again, squinting at the sky. If he squints just enough, and if the sky is clear enough, sometimes he can almost pretend that he sees stars. But there are no stars in Seoul, only figments and shadows.
When Iseul glances back at Yuchan, it’s with a wry, little half-smile. “You’re the only person I smoke with, and I was craving a cigarette.” He passes the pack back then, smile widening a hair. “So thanks.” It’s not the truth. The first answer was the truth. But when all they do is meet up to smoke after Yuchan’s been kicked out of his bar of choice for the night, then there’s hardly any room for getting to know each other. Yuchan wouldn’t know that Iseul’s big on honesty, and that a smile and witty remark is his greatest defense against the world at large.
Iseul stretches one leg out, an arm hooking around the other. It’s the perfect pose, allowing him to lean into his upright leg as he casts another glance at Yuchan. “So what was it tonight? Did he look at you wrong, or was it an insult to your favorite pop singer?” Iseul takes the cigarette, flicking the ashes to the side before turning his focus to the glow of the cherry ember. “Not to sound like a worried mother, but you should be careful. Some of the assholes you throw down with are big. It’s just a matter of time until one of them clocks you. And then where will I get my nicotine fix from? I’ll have to find someone else ot bum from. Or worse, buy a pack of my own.”
Did the death of Go Jeon affect your life in any way? If so, what changed?
That’s a loaded question, if Iseul has ever heard one, and the host takes a moment to really thing about the question – and all of the answers he could offer – before he opts for the truth….or for some part of it. It’s not really lying if he doesn’t tell the whole truth, is it?
Not his fault the question wasn’t the right one.
“As a human who, by present occupation, is often in the company of members of the Noctis clan, the death of Go Jeon has affected a number of things in my life. In some aspect, it’s hardly noticeable. But in others, it’s the sort of change that is visible across the entire board.”
Humming to himself, thoughtful and wary of the information he has at his disposal and how much he can and should share, Iseul’s lips quirk at the far corners, a facsimile of a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I never met Go Jeon. I’m just a lowkey human that those in his clan took interest in for my….unique capabilities. But from what I have heard about him, and what I do know, his death is a tragedy, and those that knew him well must miss him terribly. He was a good man, a husband and a father, and also a friend, and you would be wise to be careful who you go around asking invasive questions of. The vampires here are nice enough, but few of them take kindly to provocation.”
There’s something inherently therapeutic about running. The steady beat of his shoes on the track, the whir of the treadmill underneath him, the distant conversation of those around him, every ragged breath from his lips, and his heartbeat in his ears, a steadfast reminded of i am alive i am alive i am alive. Iseul likes it. He likes his mornings at the gym, spent alternating between treadmill and the stairmill with the occasional bounce to the weights. It gives him a routine, and one Iseul is grateful for when the nights are hard and the mornings are harder, and everything sucks so much more in the cold, grey light of dawn.
But what Iseul likes best about his morning gym dates is that he shares them with Haneul.
As far as people go, Haneul is….okay. Iseul get along well enough with most individuals. He’s polite and respectable and smarter, and while he’s a far cry from the boy you would want to take him to meet your parents, adults tend to like him more often than not because of that keen intelligence and sharp eye. In that same way, he gets along well enough with Haneul. Over the time they’ve known each other, Iseul has seen Haneul’s intelligence, and his wit. But he’s also seen Haneul’s ability to hunker down and bear the worst of the storm before moving on with his life. He’s a fighter, stubborn and steadfast. And despite the secrets Iseul is keeping -- and the secrets Haneul thinks he’s keeping from him -- Iseul considers Haneul somewhere up at the top of the list of people he enjoys and appreciates.
That being said, Iseul has known Haneul a couple years now, long enough to have gotten a feel for the other male’s habits and quirks, and definitely long enough to know that there’s something weighing heavy on Haneul’s mind. Just what it is, however, Iseul isn’t completely sure of. Yet.
Without breaking strike, Iseul casts a furtive glance at the treadmill next to his, brow furrowing when he catches sight of his friend. There’s something off about Haneul. It’s not obvious, nothing that could clue in someone that didn’t know exactly what they were looking for. But Iseul likes to think he knows Haneul well enough to see the tells. More than that, he likes to think he knows Haneul well enough to get the truth of the matter.
“Hey,” he says after a moment, turning his head now and slowing the speed of his machine enough that he can talk without a jarring space between the words. “You okay? You’re….” Iseul searches for the word, the one that explains exactly what he’s seeing, a word to explain his concern without coming across as too nosy, but nothing comes to mind. All he can come up with is, “quiet. You’re quiet today. Did something happen?”
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